


Journeys End in Lovers Meeting

by clandestine_xo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Character Death, Lay-centric, M/M, Minor Character(s), Minor Kim Minseok | Xiumin/Lu Han, Red String of Fate, Yixing-centric, fanxing - Freeform, somebody find yifan, where in the world is wu yifan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-26 05:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17739893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clandestine_xo/pseuds/clandestine_xo
Summary: Yixing finds knots and tangles everywhere he goes, never knowing to where or to whom it leads.





	Journeys End in Lovers Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt Code:** A52  
>  **AU/Trope:** Red Thread of Fate (Chinese/Japanese Legend)

“Mama, what’s this?”

The woman stops cutting up vegetables the moment she hears her son’s voice, levelling him with a fond gaze when she realizes what it is he’s asking about. She laughs when his impatience begins to show, feet shuffling from side to side as he keeps his left arm above his head. She notices him wiggle his fingers, repeating his question with as much persistence a three-year old can muster.

The mother steps away from the kitchen counters and approaches the boy, crouching in front of him and taking his small hand between hers. “ _Yīnyuán hóngxiàn_ _,_ ” she says. “The red thread of fate.”

“How come you don’t have one?”

“Oh, but I do! You just can’t see it. It’s a special thread, little one. I can see mine but I can’t see yours. Just like you can see your thread but I can’t see it.”

“Baba has one too?”

The woman nods in response.

“What’s it for?”

Rather than answer, she playfully ruffles his hair and gently turns him around, patting her son on the bum to get him on his way. “You’re keeping me from finishing preparations for dinner, little one.”

“But mama,” he whines, flashing a pout that most people will find difficult to refuse.

“I will tell you more when the time comes,” she replies. “For now, you go and wash up.”

The mother looks on in amusement when the downturn of the boy’s mouth goes deeper, the prospect of washing up obviously not sitting well with him. He trudges forward nonetheless, only to run back to the kitchen doorway to flash a bright smile.

“I love you, mama!”

“I love you too, Yixing,” she says warmly. “Go on, then. Dinner will be ready soon.”

 

* * *

 

As the years go by, Yixing learns more and more about what the red thread means, from the origins of the legend to Yuè Xià Lǎorén, the deity in control of it. His most recent brush with the red thread of fate comes from his friend’s endless chatter about his summer vacation.

“It was everywhere!” Lu Han exclaims, arms stretching out in a wide circle in emphasis.

Yixing chuckles gleefully at his excitement, letting the other share his experience at coming across what seems like a city completely tangled in his red thread.

“Some places had more of it in knots so I tried asking my parents if we can go back to them, but I didn’t get to see anyone.”

Lu Han’s pursed lips and furrowed brows cause Yixing to form his own pout, wondering what happens now.

“Seoul is just a two-hour flight away from Beijing,” Lu Han starts, gazing dreamily out their classroom window. “My parents say we can go there for vacations more often, or something. Maybe I’ll go there for school one day.”

Yixing readily nods at the level of conviction in Lu Han’s voice. They are, after all, only 10 years old. They have plenty of time to while away, to grow up and learn, to meet more people. The red thread will always be there regardless of time, place, or circumstance. It will stretch and tangle, but it will never break.

And as Lu Han continues to regale him with stories of Seoul, Yixing wonders if he has to search far and wide to find the person at the end of his red thread. He glances down at his hand and flexes his fingers. Beijing isn’t wrapped with any thread other than what he knows are from his end after all.

 

* * *

 

Growing up, Yixing always thought it as a nuisance that his father’s job requires him to uproot his life every so often. He ends up feeling isolated, though he doesn’t do much to change that, not when he knows he’s bound to leave not long after. The only friend he really manages to keep in contact with is Lu Han, who doesn’t fail to remind him that his moving around may lead him to the person at the other end of his red thread.

“Just because it happened to you, doesn’t mean it can happen to me,” Yixing sighs over the phone.

“Stop being so pessimistic,” Lu Han chides. “You’re only 14. You don’t need wrinkles this early in life. Do you want to look like a prune when you finally meet your soulmate?”

Yixing only sees the light of it when he and his family arrive in Hong Kong for a quick vacation. He knows that he’s never been there before. His parents would have kept mementos if they had taken him when he was a baby. So when he sees the red thread lining the road, he knows he’s close. Yixing sees more of it as they take in the city, making paths through museums and night markets, gathering knots at bus stops and food streets.

He wants to take a picture, if only to show Lu Han what he found. He wonders if his friend will be as excited as he was when he found a similar scene in Seoul, just like his parents were happy when he told them about it. But he knows he’s the only one who can see it. So instead of a camera, Yixing commits the memory in his sketchpad after buying a new set of coloring pencils. He later sends a scan of it to Lu Han.

“Did it look like this?”

“Seoul was much redder than that,” Lu Han says, his face falling into a fuzzy frown over the video call.

“Yeah,” Yixing agrees somberly. “Considering where I found it, I’m guessing whoever it is came here as a tourist, too.” He hopes Lu Han can’t see how teary his eyes are over that realization.

“You know the person exists. Time, place, and circumstance, remember?”

Yixing considers Lu Han his best friend, even as the other jokes that he’s his only friend. It’s not far off, but there’s only so much that a good friend will do or say to make him happy. So when Lu Han comments on how much improvement is in his drawings, Yixing jumps for the change in topic.

 

* * *

 

Yixing freezes the second he walks past the gate of his new high school in Guangzhou, breath catching in his throat as his gaze travels across the courtyard. He fumbles for his phone, typing out a quick message to Lu Han before starting his trek to the registrar’s office.

_Han. Everything is red._

_I’ll call you at lunch. Make sure you answer, Xing._

Every step Yixing takes in school is a battle with excitement and anxiety. Somewhere in these halls is the person at the other end of his string, and he worries if he looks okay, if he’s ready for this to happen. He can only be so grateful when he enters a near empty classroom, gasping at the sight of the farthest seat from the door.

One of the few students approaches him with a kind smile. “Hello! You must be the transfer student. Teacher Li told the class you’ll be coming today.”

“Uh, yes, hello,” he stammers. “My name is Zhang Yixing.”

“I’m Song Qian,” she introduces herself, offering her hand as a greeting. “Class won’t start for another 20 minutes, but you’re free to take a seat,” she continues, mouth dropping slightly in concern. “I hope you don’t mind sitting in the back for now. Those are the only seats we have available. But Teacher Li can ask someone to switch if you need to be closer to the board or something.”

Yixing replies that he has no problems with it. His heart starts beating fast when Qian guides him to the desk just in front of one completely surrounded with red.

“Are you okay?” Qian asks. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” Yixing squeaks out. He flushes pink when his voice cracks, masking how stupid he sounds with a shaky smile. “It’s probably just nerves. New student transferring in the middle of the school year and all that.”

Qian gives a sympathetic pat on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. If you need help with anything, just let me know.”

Yixing spends the next 20 minutes trying to regulate his breathing. How attractive is it going to be if he ends up passing out when his soulmate finally takes a seat behind him? He sits up straighter for every student that goes through the door, but the classroom fills up and no one comes to sit on the red-threaded schooldesk. Maybe whoever occupies the seat is out sick today.

When Teacher Li begins the roll call, Yixing makes sure to pay attention to the names, hoping to at least get a clue.

“Wu Yifan?” the teacher calls out, gaze moving to the spot behind Yixing. “Wu? Is Yifan not here?”

_Found you._

A student raises her hand to catch the teacher’s attention, speaking up when she’s given the go ahead. “Teacher, did you forget? Yifan is moving to Canada.”

_Or not._

Yixing laments over the discovery when Lu Han calls. Both of them guess that the reason why he found threads in Hong Kong is due to its proximity to Guangzhou. Yifan could have easily made the trip with family, much like how Lu Han vacations in Seoul with his every so often.

“At least you have a name,” his best friend sighs. “I’ve been going to Korea for 6 years straight, and all I see are more knots.”

“He’s in Canada,” Yixing deadpans.

“And we live in a world that’s more connected because of the Internet. You can go and look up every Wu Yifan on social media and check if he comes from Guangzhou but currently studies in Canada. I can’t look up threads and knots.”

 

* * *

 

At 18, Yixing finds himself boarding a plane with Lu Han, both deeming it necessary to take a vacation together before they start at their respective universities.

“Trust that you move away just when I go back to Beijing,” Yixing teases. “I can’t believe you’re making good on your promise to go to school in Korea.”

Lu Han grins cheekily as he settles in his seat, sticking his tongue out when Yixing shakes his head at him. “I’ve been dreaming of this day since that summer when we were 10. I say it’s about time I made this jump.”

“I wish I can go to Canada,” Yixing says ruefully.

“Hey,” Lu Han starts, bumping their shoulders together. “Time, place, and circumstance, remember? Maybe it’s Yuè Lǎo saying neither of you are ready just yet.”

Some months later, Yixing receives a rambling call from Lu Han about Yuè Lǎo having a twisted sense of humor.

Yixing is hunched over his drawing desk as he completes his assignments, leaving Lu Han to babble on over the speaker.

“Of all places I had to meet the person at the other end of my red thread,” his best friend grumbles. “Did it really have to be on the soccer pitch?”

Yixing snickers, imagining all the weird faces Lu Han often pulls during games. “What? Are you afraid he thinks you’re ugly when you’re in the middle of a game or something?”

“Were you not listening? Yixing!” Lu Han wails. “He goes to Korea University! It’s Yonsei’s deadliest rival.”

“Methinks thou doth overreact much.”

“Methinks thou, oh what the hell? Stop turning into a nerd. Is this what Peking University does to you? Are we sure it was ranked properly?”

“Just quit whining and tell me more about Kim Minseok.”

 

* * *

 

The calls between Yixing and Lu Han start coming few and far between. It’s not for lack of attempts from his best friend, but more his efforts at avoiding them. But Lu Han isn’t his best friend for nothing. Figuring out why Yixing makes himself scarce was easy, and he says so in one lengthy email.

Yixing finds it hard to talk to Lu Han. It’s a constant reminder that his best friend found his soulmate. It’s in hearing Minseok’s distant laughter over the line, in seeing him wave back happily through a fuzzy video, in learning how happy Lu Han is now that they’ve found each other. All Yixing has is a name and a surprisingly long list of Wu Yifans who have since migrated to Canada after leaving China.

Lu Han promises to stay away from the topic of red threads, even arranging calls when he’s sure Minseok won’t be around. Yixing realizes how much he screwed up, apologizing first for being a stick in the mud and later saying that Lu Han and Minseok are free to do as they wish.

“You should try to find him or something,” Lu Han suggests one night. “Send him a message and ask about his thread.”

Yixing digresses. He shares how he’s not completely sure if Wu Yifan is at the other end of his thread.

“What do you mean?”

“I went to a public high school,” Yixing starts. “Any number of students could have sat there before Wu Yifan. What if those knots were from the person who graduated years ahead of my class?”

“Why do you doubt so much?”

Yixing can’t help it. He knows the story of how his parents met, fighting an arranged marriage only to see each other on opposite ends of the matchmaker’s table. He’s seen Qian chase after her thread only for subway doors close before her nose. He’s heard Lu Han’s feelings of betrayal at learning his thread is at the beginning of a rivalry. It leaves him to ask why fate teases people so, wondering what twist he can expect for his own thread, questioning if it’s truly worth it.

“Time, place, an–”

“Circumstance, I know.”

 

* * *

 

It takes him a while and numerous talks with his parents, Lu Han, and Qian, but Yixing learns to leave things up to fate. He has his life to live after all, one that doesn’t need to be left hanging while he waits for the knots of his thread to unravel. So when an opportunity to go on an exchange program lands in his lap, he jumps for it.

“I can’t believe you’re moving to France to go to a fancy art school,” Lu Han says, eyes and jaw wide open.

“It’s only for a semester,” Yixing says with a shrug. “And close your mouth. You’ll catch flies.”

Yixing cackles and Lu Han squawks when both realize that Minseok had said the exact thing outside the frame.

“Hi Yixing,” he greets, popping his head in front of the camera for a bit. “I hope you enjoy Paris. Please learn lots so you can teach this uncultured swine who likes to call himself my soulmate new things.

“I hate you both,” Lu Han grumbles, pushing Minseok out of the way. “I’m not translating that.”

“He can send it to me on WeChat and I’ll use a translator. He’s done it before.”

Yixing dissolves into snickers when Lu Han looks up to the ceiling, sighing in defeat. “I regret ever connecting you two.”

The conversation diverts to other things – their families, Lu Han and Minseok’s games, Yixing’s artwork. Yixing waits for the other shoe to drop, knowing that Lu Han is itching to ask a specific question. He doesn’t disappoint.

“What about your red thread?”

“Weren’t you the one who keeps telling me about time, place, and circumstance?” Yixing asks wryly. “I’ve been going in and out of places and seeing his knots and tangles. Maybe I’ll go to France and see more of it there, or maybe I’ll leave knots of my own for him to find some time later.”

He arrives in Paris and notes how it’s free of any knots and tangles. It’s 3 months into his stay in France when Qian sends him a message saying how she saw Wu Yifan in Beijing. She says Yifan seemed to circle the places Yixing frequented.

_I should have asked for his number, I’m sorry._

_That’s okay, Qian. It’s not your problem to deal with._

It’s 6 months after, when he’s back at Peking University, that he notices more tangles that he knows aren’t from him. He goes back to hoping that it is who he thinks it is at the other end of his thread. He wonders if Yifan will ever have the chance to travel to Paris and if he will try to follow the strings Yixing left there.

 

* * *

 

Yixing is 23 when he pursues a gallery internship in New York, much to Lu Han’s chagrin. His best friend thinks he’s running away. Perhaps he is, or perhaps he wants to take fate in his own hands rather than wait for something that may never come. Qian is more understanding, but she’s sly in slipping a picture of who he learns to be the Wu Yifan he failed to meet in high school. _Just in case,_ she says. Neither of them care to expand on the thought. Both of them are aware of the pains of all the what if’s and could be’s.

Sometimes Yixing wonders why it couldn’t have been Qian instead. It would have been ideal, would have saved both of them the heartache and longing. Of course, nothing is ever that easy. Qian remains a good friend, someone Yixing wishes he could do more for.

That was 5 years ago. Qian has learned to deal with her fated rejecting her, while Yixing still carries an old high school photo of a stranger in his wallet. It’s yellowed and frayed at the edges, one corner torn from the frequency by which he pulls it out. From thick brows and round eyes, to high cheekbones and a defined jaw, to a slender nose and a small mouth – the image is ingrained in his head.

Over a decade since he found clues as to who was at the other end of his red thread, and he’s yet to find all the answers, nor does he have the courage to reach out. He has a name, a picture, the Internet – but not an ounce of bravery to step out of his comfort zone to send a message to Wu Yifan. The words “ _Hey, guess what? I’m your soulmate,”_ run through Yixing’s mind, making him scoff as he comes back to reality.

Yixing opens the gallery’s backdoor to hear his assistant bidding farewell to a visitor, hopefully the last straggler of the night. He wants nothing more than to close up shop and sink into his bed after the long week of holding an exhibition. He tiredly raises his left hand to eye level, wanting to check the time, only to freeze the moment he notices his string. No knots or tangles, just one taut, straight line leading out the front entrance.

It takes him several moments to digest what he’s seeing, finally breaking into a sprint to the main room, shouting at the top of his lungs.

“Lu Han?!”

His best friend looks up from his seat, startled. “Whoa! What happened?”

“Who was here?”

Lu Han takes in the frantic look in Yixing’s eyes before diving for the guestbook, hurriedly flipping through the pages. “I wasn’t paying attention when he was writing because another patron was here,” he explains. “Here! His name is–”

“Wu Yifan.”

Realization dawns on Lu Han the second the name leaves his best friend’s lips, recalling how he’d seen the man pass by the gallery through window multiple times before entering. He remembers the crestfallen expression on his face when it seemed like he didn’t find any of the art to his liking. Lu Han now knows the look was because the stranger was unable to find what, or rather, who he was hoping to see.

“Yixing, what are you doing?” he exclaims. “Run!”

Like a flip of the switch, Yixing dashes out the front door, racing to wherever the string leads him. The thread begins to feel loose, a warning that Yifan was getting farther. Yixing guesses that the other must have climbed into a car. If fate has any mercy left for him, he’ll consider a red stoplight enough.

Of course, fate has other plans.

The thunderous sound of metal hitting metal drowns the rest of the city’s noise. Yixing’s thread comes loose, tattered end falling to his side. What was once a vibrant red slowly fades into a dull gray.

It was the right place and the right time, during the most heartbreaking circumstance. Even without approaching the growing crowd, he knows.

Yixing knows Yifan is gone.


End file.
